No More Waiting
by SarahBee
Summary: I'm a complete Clopin addict, so I had to write this. Its a year before HOND the movie takes place. Its about a sensitive, merciful girl coming face to face with the mistreatment of Frollo through her awkward relationship with the funny, protective Clopin
1. Chapter 1: His Nose

b As much as I wish I did, I don't own any of the Disney characters. /b 

Chapter One: His Nose

p I ran. And ran.

p Then stopped abruptly, covering my face as much as possible, and shivering in sweat.

p "Meg?"

p I busted out in warm tears as my face went beat red and my stomach threatened to give in.

p "Meg? Are you alright?" I heard the voice again. My father.

p I loved him. Deeply.

He wasn't really my father. He was my stepfather. But there wasn't really a step between us- we were on the same level. Besides, he was more of a dad to me then my genetic one.

p Anyways, my dad had caught up with me beside the baker's shop. I let him wrap me in a tight hug.

p "I didn't know you'd be this upset. I should have listened and left when you asked too," he apologized. I mumbled gibberish. I didn't have anything to say really.

p I was running from the gallows. A horrible place, if you ask me. Some man was just hung for who knows what.

p All I really remember was his face- bright red and scared out of his wits, glancing every two seconds at the rope around his thick neck as if unsure of why it was there.

p Then how he fell, and his face went even redder, then purple and was slowly fading into this pale cream when I turned and ran.

p I hate death.

p Hate it with all my heart. And it still makes me want to throw up when I think about how he must've have felt standing there, just waiting for them to pull the lever. Or as his family and loved ones felt, waiting to watch him die.

p My dad half-carried me to the inn. We were traveling merchants.

p One of the best lives, if you like to travel. Not so good if you like commitments. But I was only 16, what commitment could I really have? I didn't really want to marry.

p Well, I take that back. I wanted to, desperately! And, oh, how I daydreamed about it all the time! But the only man I met in my age range that had caught my attention was two years away. Two years! And still his thought was enough to make me squirm with giddy thoughts.

p I was 16, remember!

p At the inn, I collapsed on my temporary bed. Mom was in the room next to me, scolding my sister, Vanessa, who had, from what I heard of the fight, almost bought beer at the tavern. As good-natured young women, it was forbidden to drink. I think it should be our decision, but I just learn to deal with things. Vanessa rebels against them. I was the good child, basically.

When mom was finished, Vanessa stormed back into our room, plopping down on her bed, which was beside mine.

p "The rules of our lives take away our lives," she muttered.

p "I agree," I whispered, closing my eyes.

p "I think I'll run away!"

p I scoffed at her.

p "Really, I do! Lets go find someone! It'll be fun!" she urged me, sitting up and letting excitement glimmer in her little eyes.

p "I'm not running away, but I guess I wouldn't mind a date..." I replied, propping myself up on my elbows, "But if mom and dad ask where you are, I won't lie or tell less than I know"

p "That's what you always say!"

p "Do I not uphold it?"

p "Well, you don't always tell them everything, and you know it!" she joked, standing up and searching through her bags. I laughed. She was right. I didn't want to get my sister into that much trouble.

p Vanessa forced me to change into what she thought suitable for picking up guys. I didn't like it, but whatever. I'd let her have her fun. Honestly, I doubted we'd pick up a guy. She wasn't the most attractive person, though she was very outgoing. I was ok on looks, and I wasn't a hermit or anything, but it usually took my sisters presence to get boys to talk to me.

p Mother always said it was because I was so beautiful they were intimidated. If I only had a coin for every time I heard that one. Besides, she told the same thing to Vanessa, which was a total lie. The only reason guys were intimidated by her was because she was so peppy and unafraid on everything.

p Anyway, I ended up wearing a royal blue dress that hung to a little below my knees, with a stomacher that laced up the front around my stomach, and had a lighter blue fabric that hung around the bottom. The blue was to bring out my eyes. I, personally, despised the color blue.

p Red was my favorite color. Not because I was daring, or brave, but because it was the color a daring and brave person would like.

p I've always wanted to be like that, and take part in my own adventures.

p So, telling our ignorant parents we were simply going out to explore the Parisian town, we headed out of the inn. Vanessa led me behind her, as if I was on a leash. I didn't mind. I wanted to see what she could do, anyway.

p After walking around aimlessly for a while, me pointing out who I thought was cute and Vanessa tsking and wrinkling her nose, we almost gave up.

p "There's not one decent looking man in this whole town!" she grumbled. I bit my lip and looked around.

p I spotted something colorful. Very colorful. A man in a purple mask was packing up what seemed to be a very bright stand. His hair was either black, or that brown easily mistaken for black and hung straight right above his shoulders. He wore a purple hat with a yellow feather. He had a goatee. He looked so weird, but handsome in that kinda ugly way.

p I bit my lip. Why not?

p "How about him?" I asked, pointing to the man, obviously a jester.

p Vanessa grimaced. "Its just like you to pick out the oldest men around! Meg, if you have to be attracted to ugly people, at least stick to men your own age!"

p "They're not that ugly! Just because he might be fat, or too skinny," I nodded towards the goatee man, "or have an humongous nose doesn't mean that they aren't attractive in their own special way!"

p She rolled her eyes at me. "That's so typical of you. Defending the ugly. If you had that crow nose you'd never come outside again!"

p "Yes I would!" I argued, knowing inside me that if

I did have the goatee man's nose I'd be so insecure it wouldn't have been funny. I probably wouldn't go outside, in fact.

p But that's just me. Goatee man seamed perfectly fine with his nose, just like I grew to be perfectly fine with my little clef chin.

p "Meg!" Vanessa whispered suddenly. "Look!"

p I took my eyes of Goatee man, and turned to see a group of students. They were indeed attractive as well.

p "I wish I could talk to them!" Vanessa whispered, longing in her voice. They were much richer than us. And, as I said before, Vanessa was no Bella diva.

p I rolled my eyes. Everyone of the students had their primmer, little button noses up in the air. I wanted to stuff them up their butts.

p But that's beside the point.

p Vanessa strolled over to a little bridge and sat on the edge. I followed.

p "Oh, Meg, Meg. Whatever are we to do now? This town has robbed us of our deepest pleasure!" Vanessa complained.

p "Oh, what else but hang ourselves! Or drown!" I remarked sarcastically, though it reminded me of my earlier encounter and I fought not to gag.

p "Meg! I'm not in the mood for your silliness!"

p "But its who I am, dear sister."

p It was silent for a minute.

p "Have you ever cried in front of a boy?" she asked.

p I almost gagged again. "Maybe."

p "Spill."

p "Well," I paused. This story was horrid. "One time I did. It was with that Chester Brimmings. I was crying because my cat had died. Chester said: 'Aww, its alright! It was going to die someday, so why not today anyway?' I blubbered for hours while he went around covering his boy parts with his hands because his silly friends were trying to kick him there."

p Vanessa busted out with laughter. "Oh my, my!"

p A gypsy group passed us, all holding different instruments. They were men in maybe their twenties. They were gypsies, like the goatee man, but they were handsome and clean shaven.

p My sister gave me her devilish smile.

p "Gentlemen! Might you spare one last song for our entertainment?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

p The four men snapped around, eyeing us carefully. One of them blushed and replied, "Why, of coarse! We are in no hurry, right?"

p The all whipped out the instruments and played a beautiful song. It was slow but booming, like the sun when it rises.

p Both me and Vanessa got coins from our purses, handing it to them when they were threw.

p "Oh, you don't have to!" the one who blushed said, but when he was elbowed by the oldest in the group he looked down and shut up, stuffing the gold into a little bag.

p "Are you girls new here?" asked one who was extra brawny, wit muscles bulging from his short sleeved shirt.

p "Our father is a traveling merchant." I answered, my innocent and young voice taking them all aback.

p "How old are you?" asked the oldest.

p "She is sixteen, I am eighteen sir." Vanessa blinked at the blushing one, obviously having found her target.

p I sighed. He was the cutest one out of the four. Not that I would've have wanted him anyway. I'm far to shy.

p "You look much older!" the oldest told me, smiling, but not in a flirty way. Just entertained.

p "Thank you." I whispered.

p I noticed the fourth one seemed extremely bored, leaning against the other side of the bridge. You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek.

p "What does your father sell?" the brawny one asked, directing his question towards me.

p "Anything he can get his hands on," I replied, avoiding eye contact.

p It was sort of quiet and awkward for a minute.

p "Hey, umm, some of our friends are meeting at the tavern for some fun, would you like to join us?" the blushing one asked, covering his stomach as if afraid he was going to be elbowed again. My heart sped up. She'd actually done it.

p "Sure!" Vanessa leaped down from her perch on the bridge wall.

p "I'm going home." the bored one half said, half whispered.

p I looked at Vanessa, who was nodding to me to follow her and the gypsies. I suddenly became very nervous, and with all my heart I wanted to say no, and normally I would've, but for some odd reason I just went.

p The tavern was crowded with gypsies and drunks old and young. Of course, there was the few people there just for wholesome fun, which included me.

p But it wasn't that much fun at first.

p The brawny one, Michel, was nice and all, but I wasn't very interested. He had just turned 20 the month before, which was my age group but, as much as it shouldn't, looks sorta mattered to me. Sure, not many people agreed with me in who looked cute to me, but that was just my weird taste. When guys were really not my type, I could tend to be a little shallow.

p Whatever. I was 16.

p Michel and me sat across from each other at a table and Vanessa sat next to me with Gilbert (the blushing one) across from her.

p The other one disappeared to another group.

p We made enough small talk to keep us entertained, until some people started playing fiddles.

p "Lets dance!" Vanessa stood up, holding her hands out to Gilbert. He blushed, but lead her to the middle of the floor where other couples were dancing.

p I blushed just like him. Michel looked at me as if unsure if to ask me or not. I tried to get of that subject quickly.

p "Who taught you how to play your flute?" I asked with my 'I'm just curious!' look.

p "Me!" a deep voice said. Two new gypsies were standing at our table. Well, one was new, but the other was goatee man. My face went red hot. He wasn't wearing a mask then, revealing his nose, which he bore proudly and high in the air, but not like those students. He did it differently, like he just wanted the world to know that he wouldn't let them define him.

p My respect for him went up five levels.

p The new man sat beside Michel, loosely wrapping his arm around the younger man, who blushed as if ashamed. Goatee man sat beside me, and I avoided looking at him.

p "I'm his father," said the other gypsy," My names Paul."

p "From the Bible?" I asked immediately. I usually thought before saying anything.

p "Yes, it is," Paul replied, a little surprised, "You catholic?"

p I paused. "Protestant."

p All three men's eyes widened, not mad or disgusted but genuinely surprised. I smiled at Michel, who gently removed his father's arm from his shoulders mumbling, "Do you know how strange that looks?"

p Paul gave a hearty laugh. "What's your name dear?"

p "Meg," I said, "not from the Bible."

p I looked at goatee man, waiting for someone to introduce him. No one did.

p "Do you play an instrument?" asked Michel.

p "Oh, no. I can't even sing!" I replied, a little embarrassed. I could sing. So was I lying? Yeah.

p Goatee man laughed this time but didn't say anything.

p "Horrible isn't it?" I added sarcastically, fake heartbreak on my face.

p "How do you survive?" Paul joked, smiling.

p "I'm nice to my daddy," I admitted, only half-joking.

p "She's the merchant's daughter," Michel told them.

p "Ahh, I saw him today!" goatee finally spoke, his voice deeply accented, and this strange melodical tone that was both baritone and tinner all at the same time.

"I did to! He was talking to those guards, trying to sale something. Funny how they're so nice to him! Bought something from him, do you believe it?" Paul told us. I raised my eyebrow. Michel saw it.

p "The soldiers here aren't exactly friendly." Michel explained.

p "Your much to kind!" Paul complained," I've lived here my whole life and not one of them has said a sentence to me without the words, ' scoundrel ' or ' vermin ' in it!"

p "Perhaps we are going about it the wrong way? Next time we should bake them cookies to bribe a fat one,"

goatee man smiled.

p I stifled a laugh.

p "Its not really funny," Michel reminded them, "they've been brain washed into hating us and its-"

p "Pathetic" goatee man sneered.

p "I was going to say sad," Michel grumbled.

p "I agree! Its a horrible thing to hate a whole people just because someone else does." I said, and was about to ask who had them brainwashed when Vanessa and Gilbert danced by us, Vanessa tilting her head for us to join them. My stomach sunk.

p "Go on, you youngish can dance!" Paul told us. My stomach lurched back up.

p "I hate to say it, but I can't dance." I blushed.

p "You can't dance or sing?" goatee man asked.

p I really wanted to know his name.

p "Its not hard, you just have to be taught! Michel'll show you how!" Paul urged.

p "Pa, if she doesn't want to dance-" Michel started.

p "Well its not that I don't want to, its just-" I started.

p "Then why don't you?" Paul asked, "Go!"

p "I'm not a good teacher, you won't learn a thing." Michel said to me.

p "Then I'll teach you!" Paul declared, running a hand across his gray streaked mustache and standing up.

p "Oh no!" Michel whined, leaping up as well.

p "Both of you, sit down! If Meg wants to learn, I'll teach her," goatee man half said, laughing at the pair. "Its up to you." He looked at me and grinned largely. His teeth seemed to be chipped on both sides of his wide smile.

p "Oh, I'm deeply sorry monsieur, but I can't dance with you." He cocked an eyebrow. I smiled. "I don't know your name."

p All three of them blushed, ashamed they forgot to introduce him.

p He stood up and bowed. "I am Clopin Trouillfou, and it is very nice to meet you."

p "Well in that case," I stood up, "you may try to teach me to dance."

p "Is that a challenge?" he asked.

p I shrugged and giggled, unable to think of a witty come back.

p He led me to the floor where the other couples were dancing.

p "Ok, I think you put your hand here and I put mine here-no wait. You put yours here." he grabbed my left hand on his shoulder and then put everything else in place. Then removed everything because it wasn't right and trying again.

p "You don't even dance, do you?"

p He gave me a wicked smile. "I know the basics."

p "Doesn't seem like you do."

p "Well I used to," he said, changing the position of our arms again. It must have been right because all the other dancers dodging us had their hands the same way.

p Then Clopin started dancing. And, unfortunately, I wasn't lying when I said I couldn't dance. I really can't.

p "What am I doing?" I asked him desperately trying to keep up with him but instead I was just kinda dragged by his grip on my arms. I loosened my grip on him, attempting to stop and leave the dance floor, but before I could Clopin pulled me closer to him.

p "Don't give up, you'll get it!"

p I looked at his feet, trying to mimic them the best I could, which was a pretty sad attempt.

p So then I tried to just 'feel the music'. Yeah right. Goatee man practically had to catch me. I struggled to get my balance back.

p When I finally started getting use to it, the song ended. Clopin led me back to the table.

p "She's all yours."

p Michel came over to me.

p "How'd I do?" I asked him, my eyes still on Clopin. Well, not really Clopin all together. Just his nose.

p "You're not that good," he admitted. I frowned at him.

"I'm trying."

p He smiled at me.

p And the next song started.

p It didn't last long for me. I fell right on my butt. And everyone laughed. My whole face went hot.

p But, hey, the dancing position with Michel was much different then with goatee man. Michel was so muscular I could barley fit my hand around his arm! And he was so much stronger and brisker than Clopin, who had moved gracefully with his skinny legs.

p I really wasn't expecting it.

p "I'm hopeless!" I told him, as he helped me up and took me back to the table, where the older men were having their share of laughs still.

p "You'll get better with practice," Michel assured me, adjusting small cap to reveal a good bit of thick, curly black hair.

p I had just seated when I heard a husky voice shout, "Everyone, shut up!"

p And everyone did, turning towards the man who had told them to. He was a soldier, dressed in shiny, silver armor that smoothed the wrinkles of his large belly. He needed to shave and he had deep wrinkles around his mouth, though I couldn't imagine he smiled often.

p "Its to loud in here, so we need you all to leave.

Its disturbed the piece.

p Clopin leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable, snapping his fingers, "I knew I should've baked cookies today!"

p I fought hard not to laugh to hard. The man turned in our direction.

p "I mean it. The party is over."

p "You're right!" Clopin smiled at the man, revealing his chipped teeth, "It ended the minute you walked in!"

p "Scoundrels, you all are! I oughta throw you in jail!" he hissed.

p "We oughta throw you off a cliff!" a gypsy argued, which set the whole crowd with laughter.

The soldier was about to say something, but another voice silenced him.

p "Calm down, its all in good fun." Vanessa's calm voice said.

p "Ma'am, you shouldn't be around these people! Pickpockets, rapists, that what they all are!" he told her while everyone began to leave.

p I followed, mesmerized, behind the three men. What was all that nonsense?

p Outside it was chilly, but it felt good after the heat of the tavern. All the gypsies scattered between the many houses and narrow alleys. When Gilbert came out her joined Clopin, Paul and Michel. They all nodded goodbye to me and were off just as quick as the other gypsies.

p By the time the soldier, who was still busy lecturing my sister, came out of the tavern not one gypsy was in clear sight.

p Vanessa pretended to listen to the rest of his lecture patiently.

p "Vanessa! Come one, dad will want us home!" I called after her, giving her excuse to leave.

p She wrinkled her nose the minute she saw me. "We'll have to remember to pray for those poor people."

p "Seems to me its that soldier who needs to be prayed for," I whispered.

p Vanessa rolled her eyes at me.

p "I saw you dancing!" she teased me.

p I blushed. Clopin wasn't really a bad dancer after he'd remembered it. "Yeah, he tried to teach me."

p "He's actually kinda cute, you know?"

p I smiled. Yeah. Clopin was cute. But...

p "He's way older then me, though," I said, glad she couldn't see me blushing.

p "Not really! He couldn't have been older then 20!" she replied. I raised my eyebrows, but she couldn't see me.

He didn't look 20, he'd looked maybe 30.

p "Besides, I wanted to know if you thought he was cute," she reasoned, as we got to the Inn. We didn't continue the conversation until we were safe in out room.

p I laid on my bed. Did I think Clopin was attractive enough to tell Vanessa? For all I knew it was another of those things that didn't even last a week and before I knew it Clopin would become extremely not my type.

p "Yeah, he's charming," I replied, to stop me from over thinking.

p "Great! We can date together! You know they're brothers, right?" Vanessa started to unlace her boots.

p "Who?"

p "Gilbert and Michel! They're brothers and we're sisters! We can go out together, it'll be so cute!" she smiled largely.

p My stomach sunk to my feet. She was talking about Michel! And now she thought I liked him!

p I should've have figured that one out from the start! Vanessa thinking Clopin was cute? And of all the times Vanessa told me only I think older men are hot?

p I really should've known.

p But, instead, I was going to have to go on a 'date' with Michel and Vanessa with Gregory.

p "I'm going to take a bath..." I whispered, darting out of the room. I almost cried.

p I woke up early. Vanessa was still sleeping, her mouth hanging open and making slurpy sounds. I hated her in the mornings, really.

p Usually I would've just gone back to sleep and got up the next time I woke up, but I forced my eyes to stay open and quietly got ready.

p I wanted to help dad put up the stand and help him sell things. Well, no, I really didn't want to. I just wanted to avoid Vanessa and any plans she had. It was a good plan. Dad would send me on many errands, so I'd be very busy. Plus, once you started helping Dad there was no way out of it. You were stuck for the rest of the day.

p I sighed at my plans. It was my fault. I shouldn't have ever even gone to the tavern. Next time, I thought, just say no!

p I caught up with him just as he was leaving the inn.

p "Oh, good! I'll need some help!" he told me, handing me a bag of goods. We carried the stuff and quickly assembled the cart and put up the goods that were for sell. Dad went to get more things to sell, leaving me in charge. I leaned up against the makeshift counter, fiddling with a skinny stick I had found on the ground. My mom made candles. They sold well for candles, and they all smelled different. We had one lit on the counter so customers could smell it

p I dipped the stick in the little fire, allowing it to spread and dance along the stem. I blew it out, watching the wind carry off the graceful ribbons of smoke. I sighed. It was such a pretty sight. I quickly flicked the ashes off the stick and lit it on fire again, blowing it out and watching the smoke drift into the sky. This procedure repeated itself several times.

p Then I noticed something colorful- again. I wasn't surprised to see goatee man setting up his cart not far from mine. I shrank back into the shadows of my cart, watching him steadily. I felt like a stalker, making sure he didn't look my way and when he did I quickly darted my eyes away, but stepped back into the lightness. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to see me or not.

p Dad came back, interrupting my momentary stalker phase.

p "Competition?" he asked, nodding towards Clopin, who was just finishing setting up his colorful stand.

p I shrugged to appear uninterested.

p "Go check it out," he ordered, putting up more of my mom's candles on the counter.

p "What? I can't!" I told him, setting the stick on fire again.

p "Don't do that, you'll catch the whole thing on fire!"

p "No I won't."

p "Go do what I told you."

p "Yes, my lord," I quickly gave him one of my big teethy smiles to show I wasn't being rude, just smart alecky.

p You think its the same thing?

p Its not.

p So I ducked out of our stand, dusting my orange dress off. It was my favorite- it had buttons down the front to about my waist, then at the bottom you could see a pink and yellow flowered pattern, which matched the fabric used for the tank top sleeves at the top.

p Usually my hair would've been neatly curled, but I didn't want to put the rags in the night before so I had all my natural curls poking out every which way.

p Honestly, my only really great feature is my face. I have a little bit of a chest, absolutely no butt and I wasn't fat, but I had my fair share of chub around the waist (though I found that if I wore certain things, I looked much more skinnier then I actually was). My face, though, I have to admit, was what made me pretty. My favorite feature is my lips, and I constantly bit them. And every time I did I thought that it was a shame they'd never been kissed.

p So, there I was, biting my lip and thinking they needed to be kissed as I strutted over to Clopin and his stand. I was almost there when I saw him slide a little puppet on his hand.

p He was a puppeteer!

p And, normally, I would've casually turned around and went back to my stand, but he'd caught sight of me.

p "Why, hello there!" He called after me. I blushed, trying to think of an excuse of why I was there.

p "Hello, g-Clopin!" My heart sped up when I almost called him goatee man.

p He didn't seem to notice, which was good. "Do you need something?"

p "Oh, umm," I paused. Better just tell the truth. "I was helping my dad. He wanted me to make sure you weren't competition. But you're obviously not." I nodded toward the little puppet, that looked just like him, actually. Even its little nose was in perfect proportion to its puppet body as Clopin's nose was to his.

p "But I am competition! I'll lure all your customers away with my memorizing tales of myst'ry and romance!" he replied, moving his little puppets arms along with his words.

p I giggled. "Thats so cute!"

p "Thanks!" he grinned at me, "I always thought I was a cute one."

p I raised my eyebrows. "I meant your puppet."

p "I know, but," he said, clearly not fazed, " its designed after me, so if its cute, I'm cute right?"

p "You could look at it that way."

p "And so can everyone else."

p I smiled back at him. "Your very confident in yourself, huh?"

p "Why shouldn't I be?" he asked me, his smile fading.

p I almost said 'because of your nose', but refrained. I shrugged at him. "I guess your right."

p "And of course!"

p It was silent for a moment, me staring at, well, honestly? His mask-covered nose, and he staring at, well, I don't know. I was to busy to notice.

p "You should go help your father," he said, ending the silence.

p "Bye," I said, a little annoyed that he dismissed me. I wasn't usually dismissed.

p But I walked back to my dad, who didn't even bother to ask if Clopin was competition. He was to busy fiddling with one of my old dresses he was going to try to sell.

p I sighed and dipped the stick, which I still held, into the candle again while my dad wasn't looking.


	2. Chapter 2: His Mouth

Chapter Two: His Mouth

I was walking through town to make sure that there wasn't any other merchants, when I heard someone call my name.

"Meg!"

It was Vanessa, and as tempted as I was to duck between some houses and run away, I turned and waited for her to catch up with me.

"Meg, where have you been?" she asked.

"Helping Dad."

She gave me the 'why in the world' look.

"I woke up early," I explained, "Besides, what else could I have done?"

"Help me find Gilbert?" she replied. I grimaced, having walked right into that.

"What fun is that for me?"

"Well, I though where Gilbert was Michel wouldn't be far and we could make plans!" she reasoned.

"Maybe I don't want to make plans." I half whispered.

She frowned at me. "You said you liked him!"

"Well I changed my mind."

"Meg!" she whined, "Please don't ruin this for me!"

Oh no. She was going to use a pity.

She knew me to well. I can barely compete on a guilt trip.

"I'm sorry, but its one of those things. You know I barely ever like guys long!" I argued.

"You liked that Andrew guy forever," she pointed out. I looked at my feet. Andrew was the two-year crush guy.

"That's different...I...," I don't think I'll ever get over him, I wanted to say. "I really liked him. He was perfect."

"What's wrong with Michel?"

"Nothing, I just..."

She grabbed me by the shoulders. "Please, Meg, don't do this! I was so excited! Can't you just go along with it for the rest of the stay?"

"We're staying here for weeks!" I reminded her. We were meeting my brother here. I hadn't seen him in a year.

"Meg!"

"What if I want to hang out with another person?"

"Who?" She smiled suddenly, her curiosity peeking.

"No one, but what if I found someone?"

"Meg," she reminded me, "Its you. You're not going to find anyone."

I glared at her, turning around and walking away. How dare she? Who did she think she was!?

She was just short, ugly, annoying, obnoxious girl.

I walked a good bit, then found a bench, sitting beside this old, haggard man missing one of her legs.

"Charity, kind girl?" he asked, the wrinkles on his small head over lapping each other in this disgusting way.

I grabbed a coin from my purse and dropped it in the hat he was holding out to me.

I brought my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around me legs.

"Life is hard." he mumbled with his aching voice. It made my heart sting.

"Tell me about it," I said sarcastically, smiling at him. He gave me a grin, showing all the gaps where teeth were supposed to be. Then I noticed something. He had something black on his teeth.

His teeth weren't missing. I looked at his stomach, with was very bulgy for the rest of his skinny body.

I gasped. He was a fake! He wasn't really missing an arm, or teeth!

"Your!" I started. He immediately sprang up and started to run. I stood up, and debated whether to follow him.

I watched him run out of sight. What would've been the point to catch him, anyway? Lecture him on kindness?

I laughed at the thought. I let it roll of my shoulders. Besides- if he needed money bad enough to dress up like a cripple, my money didn't go to bad use.

Of course, he could've just done it for fun.

But I shrugged those thoughts away.

I started my way back to my dad's cart, having not seen one other merchant. When I got back, my dad was conversing with a gypsy, who was examining one of mom's candles.

"This is my daughter, Megan." my dad introduced me.

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking the old lady's wrinkled hand. I turned towards my father. "You won't believe what happened to me!"

"What?" both of them asked, looking up at me.

I smiled, realizing the humor in the story as I told it, "and then he took off like I was a demon!"

The gypsy went pale, and abruptly left.

"Meg, your driving away out customers!" My dad teased.

"What was her problem?" I asked him, though I knew he couldn't answer.

Hours went by, Dad serving customers, me lighting a stick on fire and blowing it out, Dad scolding me.

It was about time to pack up, when Mom came out of nowhere.

"Come here," she motioned for my dad to follow her.

They went of my hearing range, talked for a minute then hugged. My mom started to cry.

"Meg, close up for me, ok?" my dad called to me.

"What's going on?" I asked, going towards him.

"Just do what I say, I'll be at the inn."

"What's going on?"

"Its not your business! Close up!"

And he was off.

Not my business? I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing the blood. I knew it was something about my brother. It had to be.

He wasn't exactly a good child. Worse the Vanessa, actually. He stole, cursed, drank, and well, everything a man likes to do.

A very bad man.

I kicked the cart, making all the goods clang together. Not my business?

I kicked it again. He was my business. Anything I loved was my business!

I banged my head against the side of the cart. I was angry, ok? But I calmed down, breathing in and out and pinching my arm. Sighing, I started to take all the goods out, stuffing them into bags.

"Need help?"

I turned around. Vanessa.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I only ever think of myself," she apologized, packing up some goods.

Yeah, yeah, I thought, I've heard this speech before.

"Its ok." It's not ok, I told myself, you're still mad.

"Lets just forget about it."

I wasn't going to forget about it.

"Thanks. Where's Dad?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Its not my business, apparently," I sneered, not at her, but obviously at my step-father.

We packed up all the stuff and pulled up the cart. I was pushing the cart while Vanessa struggled to hold all the bags. It was working.

"Ok, I'll go put the cart up and come back to help-" I was cut off.

"No need. I'll help!" I turned my head to see goatee man leaning down to pick up a bag Vanessa had dropped, and smiling his big beautiful smile.

"Thank you, sir!" Vanessa smiled at him. He wasn't looking at her though, he was still fixed upon me. I cursed him in my head.

"What's wrong, Meg?" he asked, seemingly innocent. I cursed him some more.

"Its probably her brother. He's not making smart decisions- it hurts the family a lot," Vanessa told him casually. I glared at her. Go ahead, tell the world our problems!

"Permit me so, what is he doing?"

"Well, he's..." Vanessa started.

"He's a thief. A drunk. Sleeps with anything possible," I finished for her. "He's my favorite sibling."

I glanced, furious, at Vanessa, whose jaw was dropped. We were at the inn now, and she stomped inside.

Clopin smiled at me. What was so funny?

I'd just told him the shameful past of my brother most bluntly and insulted my sister horribly, and he was smiling at me, at if proud.

"I'm guessing there is much more to your family history?" he smiled even wider, if that was possible.

"Its basically a repetition. Ben is good, Ben is bad, Ben is good again, Ben is bad. Mom is ok, Mom is dying, Mom is ok, Mom is dying," I swallowed.

"You can tell me anything, Meg. Rant all you want, if its necessary."

"Its not."

"You really don't want to?"

"Maybe later."

"I'm not very patient."

I pushed our stand to the side of the inn, locking it to a pillar meant for a horse and stuffing the key in a pocket on my dress.

Then I grabbed what Clopin was holding and started to go inside the inn.

"No goodbyes, no thank yous?" he asked, a little annoyed.

"Thank you. Goodbye."

I went inside. Was that rude? Undoubtedly. Did I care? Yes. Did I care at that specific moment? No.

I just wanted to lay in my bed a sleep until everything was fine again. My mom was just going back into her room, but I caught her.

"What's going on?"

"Honey, Brian decided he wants to come home. For good," she smiled at me. "He gets released from jail tomorrow and will head straight for us."

"Jail!?"

"He was arrested for disturbing the peace. He was drunk and he was standing in the middle of the rode screaming. And now he's going to come home!" she smiled at me again. It was fake, I could tell. I handed her the goods I held, and she went to her room. I was in this hazed state, and for some reason it didn't seem real to me. Brian was in JAIL. Jail!

I stumbled over to the door to my room, but I heard voices. I put my ear up to the door. Eavesdropping? Yeah, I always did. And I read mail that came in after my parents read it and left it open on their dresser. Who cares? Its not that big a deal.

"She said that to you?" I heard my dad ask, shocked. My stomach sank, like always.

"Yeah," my sister squeaked through sobs. I rolled my eyes, getting more and more aggravated by the second.

"I'll talk to her, trust me."

He'll talk to me?

Hell no.

I pinched the inside of my elbows hard, and then bit at the soft skin around my fingernails, ripping off bits of skin causing it to bleed. I walked out fast, incase Dad or Mom came out.

Outside, I just kinda did these haze walk, trying not to cry. What a wimp I am, I thought. I brought it upon myself, didn't I?

I was fighting tears, my face getting into crying position and me fighting it off over and over. I calmed myself to that silent cry, where the tears slid down my stone face cold. I started to pat my leg as I walked no where in particular, hitting it harder and harder.

Ok, I was abusive. But only to myself, which was better then other people, right? And I never did anything really bad, except those rare times when I was just so upset and I came out of my personal explosion with a couple bruises.

This would most likely be one of those times.

Every time I thought about my dad or my sister- excuse me, my step-sister- my anger was overwhelming. I wanted to knock someone's head off! I was bouncing with anger, becoming fidgety and gasping for breath. My arms shook, and I started to limp at the pain in my leg which I added to with every step by swinging my curled fist.

Someone on the street gave me a weird look. I abruptly stopped, glaring at them and sneering in my head. I brought my hand to my head to tuck my hair behind my ear, but just clawed at it and scratching.

Then I bawled. Can you blame me? I ruined everything. I just wanted to run away. I saw a graveyard, and it being close to dark it was deserted. I went into to it, finding a comfortable seat on a tombstone under a tree. I covered my face and cried. I needed to scream, but I refrained.

I calmed myself quickly, slapping a fake smile on. It was all right. I was being so stupid and dramatic. Nothing bad had even happened! It was just me and my stupidity working against all good things that God has given us.

I gnawed restlessly at my thumbnail, unsure of what to do now.

My stomach was sinking and rising over and over.

"You shouldn't bite your nails. Its a bad habit."

I covered my mouth, my stomach lurching into a hiccup, a tiny bit of throw up rising with it. I swallowed it instantly, almost gagging.

It was goatee man. Did he follow me or something?

"You hang out in graveyards often?" he asked my, smiling and sitting on the gravestone in front of mine.

"No. You?" I asked, noting the perfect perch he had on the marble slab.

He laughed. "You caught me."

"That's kinda weird."

He raised his eyebrow at me, giving me another grand show of his pearly white teeth. I gazed at the way the pointed tooth near the back curved away from the one behind it leaving a nice little gap. I liked it, it gave him character. A clef chin certainly didn't give you character.

"Are you ok?" he asked, as if suddenly realizing I had been crying. He was a good actor, but I saw right through him. He'd planned that one out.

"I'm fine."

"Don't try to hide from Clopin, Meg!"

"But I'm not!" I said innocently.

"But maybe you are."

"But maybe I just don't want to tell you what's not your business," I snapped, regretting it when I saw his smile fade. In fact, he looked extremely taken aback.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"What? Hmmm? I didn't seem to hear that?"

I grunted. "I'm SORRY."

"Can you repeat that?"

I smiled at him, a real smile.

"There you are!" he replied, standing up and grabbing my hand. He kissed it, leaning on one leg, " I was hoping I'd get to see that beautiful smile."

I blushed.

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

He pretended to be in deep thought. "For being quite rude, yes, for putting a wall between us, no."

I blushed even more, feeling naked. I really couldn't hide from him, could I? He made me feel so comfortable, and talked to me as if he'd known me for years.

"I didn't mean to."

He lifted me to my feet by pulling me off the tombstone. "You think you can take it down?"

"Wait and see."

"I'm not very patient!"

"Then you'll never know, huh?"

"Lets take a walk."

I nodded at him, watching his mouth smile down at me. It'd be awkward to kiss him if you had a small mouth, I thought, his being so wide. Mine was big, not wide, but my lips were...perfect. Our mouths were perfect for each other's. I bit my lip as we exited to graveyard.

What a shame my lips hadn't kissed his lips.


	3. Chapter 3: His Laugh

Chapter Three: His Laugh

Ok, so we ended up going to the tavern. He bought dinner, though I insisted on helping him buy it. He was almost as stubborn as me.

Over dinner I pretty much told him everything. From when my brother first started being bad to when I stormed out of the inn that day. He gave me some of his history. I gaped at him.

"That's horrible! Why are the guards so mean to gypsies?"

"Judge Claude Frollo."

"Whose that?"

"The ugliest man in all Paris. He's one of those obsessive church goers, and if its not what he thinks is right, he tries to kill it," Clopin explained, sipping his wine.

"Well at least he believes!" I pointed out, playing with the left over peas on my plate.

"I don't know what you believe, but with the way he lives I doubt he's really faithful to God."

"I think if at one point in his life he was truly devoted to God and believed he died for his own sins and rose from the dead, and wants with all his heart to humbly serve God, then he is saved no matter what he does after that," I told him, trying not to sound to diplomatic.

He smiled at me. "Protestant, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well he doesn't deserve heaven."

"Neither do you."

"More then him!"

"No you don't," I told him, shaking my head. "All sins are equal in God's eyes. You sin everyday, he sins everyday."

He scoffed at me.

"Its true!"

"So you don't believe in execution?"

I gasped at the thought. "No, never!"

"Not even if they murdered someone?"

"God gave us life, and only God should take it away."

"Your right! And God uses people to kill other people when he wants them to come home!" Clopin argued.

"And I hate public hangings! It's just so vulgar! If they insist on killing people, why not do it behind the stone walls?" I told Clopin, grimacing at the remembrance of the one I had witnessed just the other day.

"Oh come on, people exaggerate hangings. It's not a horrible way to die! I mean, compared to being burned alive. And you should just be grateful they don't use guillotines anymore," he took a big wig out of his glass.

"Guillotine?"

"You don't know what that is!?" he laughed at my puzzled expression. My face went hot. "You poor, innocent child! You shouldn't hang out with old men like me, you'll be exposed to such evils!"

"How old do you think I am?"

He stared at me, surprised. He took a couple minutes to think. " Eighteen?"

"Sixteen, sorry," I told him, wishing I really was eighteen.

He shook his head. "What a shame, if you were older you'd make an amusing wife!"

"I'd like to see you tell that to my father!"

He laughed melodically. It was so high pitched, and yet it came completely from his diaphragm, hearty and deep. I almost sighed at he pretty sound.

"Speaking of that, you should most likely head home."

I frowned at him. "Can't I stay with you? You can be my adoptive father! I'll me your amusing daughter!"

"I'd like to hear you say that in front of your father."

I rolled my eyes. "You got me."

He stood up and grabbed my hand to help me stand up.

"Your so polite, " I remarked at him. He kissed my hand again and laughed his perfect laugh.

"Why, of course!"

We talked about nothing specific as he walked me back to the inn. I really wanted to stay with him. He was so funny, and I was constantly laughing with him. And best of all, he laughed at what I said, feeding off of it. I was convinced I could listen to his laugh all day.

We got there, and I sighed deeply. "I'm in trouble."

"But I know you'll come through with great class, fair Meg," he joked, ruffling my blond curls.

"Whatever."

He laughed again. I relished in it.

"Goodnight."

"Thank you. Goodnight." I teased.

I was about to turn around and go inside, but he started talking again.

"You know, I'll be at my little puppet stand tomorrow if you haven't anything to do."

I smiled at him. I felt like he was courting me. It was really awkward.

"I would love to see you perform, but I think my sister wants me and her and Gilbert and Michel to do something together..."

I rolled my eyes, "and I kinda owe her something."

He looked at me, not smiling or laughing. If I wasn't so young, I'd sworn he was disappointed.

"Michel's a good boy," he told me, as if giving me his approval.

"Very merciful and mature for his age."

"He's an acrobat as well as a musician. He'll probably try to perform a little if there isn't too many guards about," he stuffed his hands in his pockets not looking at me.

"He can get in trouble for tumbling?"

"He's a gypsy. He could get arrested for giving a beggar a coin."

I shook my head. "That's horrible..." I paused, "Well, goodnight."

He laughed at me. Normally I would have been insulted, because he laughed as if amused at something stupid I said, but instead I just smiled even wider.

"Sweet dreams."

I floated into the inn, trying to wipe the giddy smile off my face before I went into my room.

Vanessa was already in the bed. I quickly changed into my pajamas and threw rags into my hair so it'd look pretty tomorrow. I would visit Clopin if it were in any way possible.

I woke up after everyone else did. Vanessa was getting dressed, and I could hear my mom scolding my dad about something.

She glanced at me. "What did you do last night?"

I was surprised. She was being nice to me?

My guilt doubled over.

"I went to eat with Clopin."

"Who?"

"You know, Michel's friend."

She nodded. I sighed.

"Lets go find them today. Clopin said they would probably do acrobats today," I remarked casually. Vanessa smiled at me. "I'm sorry."

She ran over, giving me a hug. "Its ok, don't worry about it!"

She was acting weird.

"That's the easiest apology ever."

"Well, I was thinking last night, and out of all the opportunities for you to be upset with me, you let a lot of mean things I say slide over you. So I can't really be mad at you."

I laughed. "That's really nice!"

"I know!"

I had to sit through that "Be kind to your sister!" scolding with my dad. I was glad he hadn't seen me freak out; now that I had calmed down it wasn't really bad at all. I knew I was taking everything out of proportion- how dramatic I was! I was starting to get annoyed with myself, having had that temper tantrum, so I quickly washed away the thoughts.

Then Vanessa and me went to 'work'. Which was basically just us wandering around town, hoping to see Michel and Gilbert. We passed Dad, saying hi.

Then I saw Clopin's handy dandy stand, dressed in vibrant colors. "Lets go say Hi!"

Vanessa bit her lip. "Watch a puppet show?"

I ignored her. He was in the middle of some story, and I could tell it was good because all the kids stood there in awe, and the only movement from them was a fat kid scratching his belly.

I stood off a little from the kids, listening. Clopin eyed me, so I knew he knew I was there. Vanessa purposely started to inspect her nails. "Be nice!" I whispered to her, tempted to elbow her.

She rolled her eyes.

"So, now it's up to you to decide- did she choose the lion or the princess?" Clopin ended, flipping his purple cape back to give a dramatic effect.

"I would pick the princess!" said a little girl, her eyes big with worry, "I wouldn't want the lion to kill him!"

She was backed up by some of the kids.

Then, pretty much out of nowhere, the little Clopin puppet popped up, saying, "But the lion would be much more entertaining to watch!"

Clopin tsked it, waving his finger in its face, "I didn't ask for your opinion."

Some of the kids giggled. Clopin shoed them off, but nicely, then smiled at me.

"Did you enjoy the story?"

"I only heard the end! And no- I hate cliff hangers," I explained, "If you're going to tell me a story at least tell me the whole thing."

He laughed. I blushed a little. Vanessa pointed to Little Clopin.

"He's so cute!" she told him.

"Thank you! I think he looks like me a little, " he smiled, holding it up to his face so we could judge.

"No, not at all!" I said, shaking my head.

Clopin shrugged.

"I would love to have a puppet that looked just like me!" Vanessa chimed, clasping her hands together.

I rolled my eyes at her, though I had to agree. It was so cute!

"I can make you one!" He volunteered.

"Please don't, she'll never put it down!" I told him, smiling.

"What would've you picked?" he asked, looking at me from behind his mask.

"Huh?"

What was he talking about?

"The lion or the princess?"

I laughed a little. That was kind of random, I thought.

"Give me the short version of the whole story and I'll tell you."

Suddenly he had a princess puppet of his hand, and a peasant boy on the other. "One day a very prideful princess fell in love with a peasant boy. But-" the princess disappeared and a puppet King appeared, "the King found out, and was so upset he put the boy on trial. In the trial, the boy would have to pick one of two doors. In one was a lion that would eat him, in the other a princess who would marry him. The princess knew which door held what, and when the boy went out to pick a door, he looked at the Princess. She tilted her head in the direction of the door. What would you have picked?"

"The girl of course!" I told him, "I wouldn't want him to die!"

"But then you couldn't have him?"

"Who says? He can always cheat on her" I said, matter-of-factly, "and if he really loved me, cheating on the girl wouldn't be anything."

He laughed. Man, I loved his laugh.

"Meg!" Vanessa exclaimed, grabbing my sleeve. I turned to see what it was. Gilbert, Michel, and some other people walked by. She started to drag me off.

I shrugged at Clopin, who smiled and yelled after us, "Behave!"

But he looked a little disappointed. I probably did too- I'd much rather talk to Clopin then chase after some guy I didn't like or want to like me.

Vanessa continued to drag me after them, muttering something about how bad it would be to have to baby-sit kids all day.

I sighed. Everyone has to make money somehow, right?

Vanessa walked up to them slower, as if just by chance, when they started to set up by a little wall covered in vines. Michel was doing a handstand and Gilbert playing his guitar when we came over. Michel almost fell over. I giggled at him.

"Nessa!" Gilbert exclaimed, blushing. He came over to her, as if unsure whether to hug her or not. She held out her hand, and he shook it gladly. "Its great to see you again.

' Nessa ' covered her face a little, blushing. I almost laughed at them, but it would've been rude. Michel, who always seemed to have the best of manners, Bowed a little to me, straightening himself up. He pointed to the three unknown gypsies. One was young, ten or so, the other older and overweight. The third was familiar-it took me a moment to recognize him. He was the gypsy from when we first met them that went home instead of going with them. He frowned at me instantly, and I returned the look, much displeased. Michel explained that the young one was Davis, the fat one Simon, and the frowning one Solomon.

Davis was perched on top of the wall, and seemed intent on something on the other side. Simon continued to play a beautiful little tune on his flute. "Its nice to meet you, I'm Meg," I told them, staring a little at Solomon. He turned his head away from me.

"Would you like to see us perform?" Gilbert asked, who was still clutching Vanessa's hand.

"I would love that!" Vanessa told him, smiling. She looked really happy- I was kinda jealous. They looked very cute together, and there was no question he was stricken by her.

Solomon took a position beside Michel, Davis stayed on the wall peering over it, and the rest started to play their pretty instruments.

Michel and Solomon flipped over each other, standing on their hands or balancing on one foot. They did back flips and pushed off each other to flip even higher in the air. Most amazingly, it went along with the music, which was exhilarating.

I was so absorbed in the show I nearly fainted when Davis screeched, "THEY'RE COMING!"

Each of them took off into a different direction, hiding behind a stray barrel or tucking into a dark alleyway. Solomon flew his cloak over his face and started to walk casually away. Gilbert had grabbed Vanessa, tucking her into a hiding place somewhere.

And I just stood there. Who was coming? What was coming!?

My heart sped up into its panic mode, and my breathing sped up as I waited for whatever they were hiding from to arrive.

Then I saw the gleam of the sun off of armor. Two guards came from behind the bend, glancing curiously around the area. One of them nodded at me then walked off. I stood there until they disappeared from my sight.

Everyone suddenly came back out and resumed their places. I glanced at Michel, confused. He sighed, blushing.

"That was a little embarrassing."

"Why did you hide? What would they do to you?"

"They'd bring us to the Palace of Justice."

"But you didn't do anything!" I argued. He sighed again, becoming even redder.

"They don't care. I'm a gypsy."

I almost cried, seeing the pain and insecurity in his eyes. And why did he feel that why? Because he was born into a race- he was placed into a culture that reviled him from his birth.

I touched his arm softly, looking him in the eyes."Too bad those guards don't see the things I see."

He smiled at me, embarrassed still. "They don't care about our talents."

"Forget about them." I told him, and we walked back to the wall, sitting down against it.

"You're smart for your age," he told me.

I almost snorted. I heard that line a lot too. I was wise beyond my years, a thirty-year old at heart, sprouting with wisdom from every angle and yet I felt like a regular sixteen year old. If everyone saw what I was really like they wouldn't say that.

"Thanks."

"My father really likes you. Says you got something most people don't. You should of heard him and Clopin going on and on about you," Michel chuckled.

"What did they say?" I asked, smiling despite myself.

"That you have a beautiful smile."

"Yeah right," I sighed, my insides almost exploding.

"They did! Dad said 'she had a beautiful smile', and Clopin said ' I know, didn't she!'" Michel told me, mocking their voices quite perfectly.

I shrugged. "I'm flattered."

"But it is true, you know."

I glanced at him, but he was looking down at his feet. I then synced something to my right, and turned that way to see Solomon staring at us, his face blank. He gazed at me, his chest filling up with air vividly.

"He's not a very friendly person," Michel told me, noticing my stares. "Give him time."

"Why isn't he?"

"Well, you know, I'm not sure."

I bit my lip, then giggled remembering Clopin. He thought my smile was beautiful.

Nice.


	4. Chapter 4: His Hands

Chapter Four: His Hands

I laughed at Michel, who stuck his tongue out at me. We had been talking for a long time, and I felt a little bad because the rest of his group had left to perform elsewhere when they got tired of waiting for us to stop talking.

He was funny in this sweet and awkward way.

"Don't laugh at me! I can't help it," he told me, "really; if you lived with Clopin Trouillfou you'd be just as crazy as me."

"You live with him?" I asked, curious. His father must live with Clopin too, right?

"Uhh...well...yeah!" Michel stumbled over his words. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where?"

"You ask too many questions."

I frowned at him, but decided not to push it. His secrets were his secrets, and besides, I had learned years before that if you act like you don't care, you find out more then you should.

"Clopin is very intriguing," I replied, hoping to get on that subject. I was starving for information about him.

"Yes, he is. I love his puppet shows. He's actually a really good story teller," Michel said, propping his head on his knees.

"I know! I heard him this morning. I don't know how he does that; I could never spend that long with children," I told Michel, smiling.

He nodded.

"But everyone has to make a living somehow, I guess." I remarked casually.

Michel looked at me. "He doesn't get paid for that, you know."

"What?"

"He just likes to do it."

"Then how does he survive!"

"He performs sometimes. He's a wonderful acrobat; he taught me everything I know. Not to mention what a handsome voice he has," Michel sighed, "I could never sing like that!"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I should probably find my sister."

He blushed, standing up. "Yeah, ok. Bye!"

He waved at me weakly. I smiled and waved back. I walked over to a little alley way and peaked in, but didn't see her there. I hadn't noticed where'd she had slipped away to, but I knew that she was probably some where with Gilbert so I ' casually ' made my way to see Clopin.

He was right where I'd left him, except he was loading up his little puppet stand. I drifted over and stood beside him.

"Need some help?"

He smiled at me and waved his hand. "No, no! I've had years of experience! Besides, your pretty hands might get dirty."

"Years, huh?" I remarked, "You must really enjoy this! Especially since you don't get paid or anything."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Meg, darling, don't worry about me. I can get by!"

My mouth fell open. How did he know I was worried?

He laughed again, and grabbed my hand with both of his gloved ones. "I read you like a book."

I tore my hand away, glaring at him a little. My fingers still felt the tingle of having his around mine.

"Don't worry, its cute," he shrugged and turned back to packing up. "That's one of the things I love about children. They wear their hearts on their sleeve. All of them are so innocent with their questions and their longings to know more! And how they undoubtedly know that every story I tell them has actually happened in real life, and I love seeing their little eyes grow big with fear at the climaxes of my stories."

He paused to look at me, though his large hands were still at work. "That's also what I like about you."

"That my eyes get big?"

He chuckled at me, shaking his head. "Yes! They are just so huge! It's simply irresistible!"

"Why thank...you..." my eyes drifted upwards toward the cathedral, with its high towers and the two beautifully carved rows of statues. Up on a pillar, high in the bell tower, something was climbing-slithering -up a pillar. I craned my neck to see well. "What is that?!"

"That, my dear, is the Bell ringer of Notre Dame." Clopin announced, ruffling my hair with one of his hands. I could still feel his touch tickling among my hair long after he had stopped.

"Who?"

"He rings the bells. He's said to be hideous- a demon in flesh," he cracked his knuckles, "I could tell you the story, but..."

"But what?"

"I can't tell stories on an empty stomach!"

I frowned at him. "Are you trying to ask me to dinner, or are you trying to trick me into having dinner with you?"

"Ah, you caught me! So I guess now I must confess...I've fallen in love with your company!" He took my hand in his again, but I didn't pull away from him this time.

"It seems though I already owe you one dinner, so I simply couldn't go unless..." I smiled at him, "you let me pay for it this time."

"You're a devil."

"But I thought I was innocent like a child?"

"Meet me in the tavern near sunset."

He didn't wait for me to say yes or no, but rather grabbed his little cart and headed off.

I wanted to tell him to wait, and to stay with him all day, all year! But I refrained, fingering the palm he had so heavenly clutched.

Was I obsessed or what?

It was even worse then the man I'd thought I liked for two years. He was old news now. Clopin Trouillfou had stolen my heart.

I sighed and shuffled down the street daydreaming and waiting anxiously for sunset. Then I almost fell on the floor laughing when I saw it, but instead I just stood there until they noticed me.

Gilbert and Vanessa had found a little corner by a bridge and were mouth to mouth. Naturally kisses don't last very long, but lets just say I saw the depths of both their mouths before Vanessa saw me. She ripped away from him, smiling ear to ear. I rolled my eyes.

Gilbert was clearly shocked at me being there, and threw his hat back on and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

The image of a guilty face.

"Meg! Umm, where have you been?" Vanessa asked, clearly having already thought up an alibi: ' What? I was looking for you! '.

I smirked at her. "Don't worry; I've been acting like a lady with proper upbringing."

She sneered at me, but quickly wiped it off her face to look and meekly wave at Gilbert. He walked briskly by her, waving, then shook my hand with his shaky one. It wasn't nearly as strong and big as Clopin's.

I sighed at Vanessa. How did I end up liking someone that even Vanessa was a little to young to like?

And how did she end up with the guy that would've been perfect for me at my age?

I smiled at her, wanting to be nice. "You look cute together."

She almost squealed, watching him walk away. "You really think so?"

"Yeah."

She gave me a really big, genuine smile. I was jealous again. She got what she wanted. How did she do that so fast? Didn't those kinds of things take time or whatnot?

"So what have you really been up to?"

"I don't know. I looked for you," I explained, "and then I saw Clopin and then I found you."

"Clopin again?"

"He's very funny."

"And he's twice your age," she scoffed at me.

"That doesn't mean he can't be my friend."

"Meg, what world do you live in?" she complained, "You keep hanging about with old men and people are going to start rumors."

"I don't care."

"Yes you do."

"I'm meeting him for dinner."

"What?"

"I'm meeting him for dinner," I repeated, taking major offense against her words. How could she be so insensitive?

"Why aren't you meeting Michel for dinner?" she asked me, rolling her eyes. "Michel is nice and cute and _your_ _age_."

"He's twenty!"

"And you're sixteen. So when you're twenty and he's twenty four-"

"When I'm twenty, Clopin will be around thirty-four and that will be fine then too!" I argued, glaring at her. My face flushed and I was shocked I'd actually said that. Now she knew...

"You really like him."

"I'm going to the inn," I turned to walk away.

She scooted after me. "And so am I."

She chased me practically all the way to the inn, and I bounded into our room without a word to her. She even had the nerve to sit on the edge of my bed when I curled up on it.

"I'm sorry ok, but Megan. That's just so...," she breathed in, "sick."

I sat up and stared at her, my anger showing through my face. She looked suddenly guilty.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to me, reaching for my hand. "Forgive me."

"Don't I always?"

She looked away, shaking her head. "I'm trying to be the nice one here!"

"You do a horrible job, huh."

She got up and sat on her bed, huffing out air.

I wanted to slap her.

I should've slapped her.

"You think me and Gilbert could join you at dinner?" she asked. I looked at her, surprised by the kindness in her voice.

"Well, I don't know what Clopin would say...I don't even think Clopin considers me as an...Anything," I admitted.

"How about we just happen to see you there?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Great, I'll go find him!"

She left the room in a hurry.

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it, feeling like a pitiful child. A stupid, innocent child that wears its heart on its sleeve.

And the stupid, innocent child cried for a while, one of those silent cries where the tears fall one at a time until you stop sulking and get up.

I buried my face in my hands and wished with all my heart Clopin's hands were there to hold mine...


	5. Chapter 5: His Eyes

Chapter Five: His Eyes

I paused in our mirror, looking myself over. I was glad my face was pretty, because I really had nothing else going for me. My chest was only normal, my tummy muscles glazed over with a layer of jingly fat and I didn't have even the smallest of a butt. I mean, I wasn't fat but I wasn't in shape or anything. Not to mention my skin was burned from being outside to long.

But at least I had my face, and my hair.

I had noticed Clopin always dressed in only the brightest of colors (how could you not?), and so in a pathetic attempt to impress him I was wearing a bright yellow dress with white lace.

It was the brightest thing I had, really.

Well, actually it was Vanessa's, and I was borrowing it.

Anyways, I grabbed my hand purse and told my Mom where I was going, or rather that I was meeting Vanessa for dinner.

Which I was.

It wasn't lying, I swear. It was only telling the blunt truth, without all those annoying little details. I did it a lot.

I was sixteen, anyways.

So I left the inn and started through the town. I wasn't far from the tavern when I heard commotion coming from behind me. I whisked around to see the same beggar that I had given a coin to the other day. This he was 'missing' a leg and an arm again, but he didn't have the black stuff on his teeth.

He held out a shaky arm that held the hat and I heard him whisper, "Charity, good soul?"

"Charity!" a soldier, who was standing over the crouching beggar, cackled, "You're a fake!" Then he leaned down and ripped some of the wrinkled man's shirt off, revealing his hidden arm, and yanked him up by the other arm, letting him dangle in the air. The folded leg unfolded and flopped into view.

"Charity, good soul?" the poor man repeated, but softer this time. The soldier threw him down roughly and snapped his fingers.

Then, almost out of nowhere, another soldier on a horse pulled up. His armor was a bright shiny silver, his hair black and poked out from under his helmet. "Stop! I will not have my men acting so cruel!"

"Captain, you don't understand!" The soldier started, "He's a fake! He was pretending that his leg was missing!"

"There is more important matters to handle then a fake beggar," the Captain reasoned, smoothing out his mustache.

"Captain, arrest him!" a voice rang out above them. It had power to it, a twinge of anger and not to mention age.

I turned to see a man riding a black horse appear from behind me. I almost fell backwards from him as he brisked by me on his massive, black horse. His face was thin, wrinkled and pale, with purple sags under his tiny black eyes. I could see pieces of gray hair from under his humongous hat.

"Minister Frollo!" the soldier straightened up immediately and nodded to Frollo, then turned to scoop up the skinny gypsy.

"Sir, I don't think..." the Captain started.

"Let me make it clear to you. You see a gypsy with money, or asking for money you arrest them," Frollo snapped.

I wanted to say something, but I just stood there staring at his ugliness.

The Captain sighed and started to leave. I turned around briskly and started towards the tavern again, my thoughts all about that poor beggar. He needed the money, no doubt!

I crossed my arms and walked a little faster. I wanted to see Clopin. I needed to see him.

"Papa?" I heard someone whisper. I stopped and looked in the direction of the sound. It was a girl about my age, who was a gypsy. Her hair was a lighter, more golden color then her skin, and her eyes a bright blue. She seemed to be lost, or looking for someone.

"Are you alright?" I asked, scaring the girl a little.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just looking for my Pa..." she glanced around anxiously.

"What does he look like?"

She bit her lip a little. "He's missing an arm and a leg..."

I gasped.

"What?" she asked, her eyes growing bigger.

"I am so sorry! He was just arrested back there!" I told her, guilt filling my stomach.

She looked at her feet and whispered something in a language I didn't know.

"They shouldn't have arrested him," I said, trying to comfort her.

"Sometimes I just want to...ugh!" she growled, stomping her foot. It was silent for a moment, as I debated whether to say me to or not.

"I'm meeting someone for dinner at the tavern, and I would be delighted if you came too..." I asked her, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. She smiled and nodded.

We made small talk the rest of the way there. Her name was Mary and she was a story teller.

We walked into the tavern, and Clopin spotted me from a little table by the fireplace. He frowned when he saw Mary, and so did she.

"You didn't tell me you were meeting Clopin!" she whispered in my ear.

"You know him?"

"How can you not?" she muttered, but not displeased, just surprised.

I shrugged. Everyone seemed to know more then me.

"Mary! How are you?" Clopin asked her, as if he knew her very well. I sat down beside him and Mary pulled up another chair.

"Papa got arrested," whispered to him, her red lips barely moving.

Clopin's eyes gleamed in the fire light. He had the most beautiful dark brown eyes, and you could barely tell where the iris ended and his pupil began. "Not Mathias!"

She shrugged.

He sighed. "How did you to meet?"

"We found each other," I told him, "on the way here."

"I'm going to get something to drink," Mary said and went over to the counter. I looked at Clopin, my nose tingling and my eyes threatening to tear up.

"It was so wrong! I mean, they caught him begging and the guard revealed his hidden arm and leg and then I saw Frollo! And, really, if the man was so desperate and thought that the only way to get money was to disguise himself then he had enough on his plate! I can't believe..." I paused, Mary coming back and sitting down.

"You can't believe what?" Clopin asked me, a little smile on his face.

"That Frollo is so ugly," I replied, not wanting to talk about Mathias in front of Mary, in case she got upset.

Mary laughed heartily, and Clopin smiled wider.

"You can say that again!" Mary said, sipping her cup.

I laughed a little. "But, you were going to tell me the story of the bell ringer, remember?" I looked right into Clopin's eyes. They might not have had beautiful color, like Mary's but something about looking into them made me want to melt.

"Yes, right." Clopin cleared his throat. "Well almost twenty years ago, four gypsies were-"

"Meg!" Vanessa's voice rang out from the door. She had blushing Gilbert behind her. "I didn't know you were here?"

"I didn't know you were here either!" I called, my innocent smile on.

She ventured over and asked, "Can we eat with you?"

I looked at Clopin, who was frowning again. He shrugged.

"Sure, let's move to a bigger table."

Then I noticed something- it wasn't just Vanessa and Gilbert. Michel was there.

"Mary, how are you?" Michel asked her, as if he knew her too. I became suspicious.

"Oh, Mary, your here too!" Gilbert exclaimed, shaking her hand. I raised my eyebrow.

"Does everyone just know everyone around here?" I asked them.

We found another table and sat down. "We're all like family around here," Mary replied.

"So you all live together?" I asked.

All of them looked at Clopin. I looked at Vanessa, who was to busy looking at Gilbert.

"Let's go get some food," Michel said, clearing his throat a little. I pouted at him, and then at Clopin, but both men ignored me.

I followed Michel to the counter.

"You ask to many questions," Michel whispered in my ear.

"I noticed."

The rest of the dinner went by fast. Everyone talked and joked, and I started to conceive my little plan.

It wasn't much. I just thought it would be so much easier for me to spend time with Clopin, if Michel was busy. Busy spending time with Mary.

Only thing, I had no idea how to work that out.

We were leaving the tavern when our luck ran out.

A guard was standing outside, as if just waiting to raise cane about something.

We tried to just wonder on by him, but it didn't work. "Gypsy vermin!" the soldier hissed. "Always slithering in and out of the tavern."

"Excuse me, I didn't hear that?" Vanessa turned around to the soldier, her innocent face on.

Oh no, Vanessa, don't!, I thought, biting my lip.

"I wouldn't hang around those people," the guard explained, "they'll steal you blind!"

"They've done nothing wrong!" Vanessa said firmly, and the gypsy started to become tense. Gilbert reached for her, but she twitched away from him.

"They do nothing right!"

"You're not right!"

The soldier grabbed her wrist and sneered, "I'd get out of here before you get your little gypsy friends thrown in jail!"

"I would leave if you'd let go of me!" Vanessa grimaced. I was shaking by this point, along with the others. What did she think she was doing? She was going to get them arrested!

He tightened his grip on her and growled, "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Someone who needs to take a bath!" she spat back. He started to reach towards his dagger, and Vanessa tired to run away, but his hold was too tight. Gilbert grabbed a pebble from the ground and socked him right in the nose, and Vanessa dug her fingernail into the sensitive skin below his fingernails. He yelpt and the minute he let go of her, everyone ran.

Well, except me, who was standing there scared out of my wits.

"Meg!!" I heard Mary scream, and I snapped out of it and turned heel, following her voice down a little alley way.

I heard the shouts of other soldiers from the end, and both Mary and I started going to other way again.

I practically fell into Vanessa, who stumbled backwards. We hit the stone hard and it took me a moment to open my eyes again. But I wish I'd just kept them closed.

The soldier was standing over us, peering at Vanessa, who was nearly passed out on the ground. He shoved me off her and jerked her up, tying her hands behind her back.

"No.." I whispered, reaching my hand to him.

He glared at me. "She's going to learn the hard way. I suggest you not follow in her footsteps."

He dragged her off and I just sat there crying. Where was she going? Were they going to kill her? What would happen?

"They'll put her in the stocks."

I smiled and turned around; expecting Clopin but it was Michel. He helped me up to my feet.

"For how long?"

"A day or two."

I bit my lip, starting to cry. Michel wrapped his arms around me for a tight hug.

I looked into his eyes and they looked almost identical to Clopin's. Except I didn't love those eyes.

I loved Clopin's eyes.

And as much as it went against everything I'd ever believed or had been taught about love, I loved Clopin.


	6. Chapter 6: His Legs

**SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY**

**I was on a mission trip in Kentucky!!!**

Chapter Six: His Legs

Father almost cried when I told him. My mom did.

So did I.

The next morning we went to visit her. She looked so pitiful in the stocks. And yet, so righteous and beautiful, serving her time boldly without a regret. I envied her, yet again. She deserved to wear the color red.

And I should wear yellow.

And Clopin purple.

Michel royal blue, Gilbert orange and Mary teal.

Somehow, not only did it give me something to focus on other then my sister being humiliated, but it comforted me to give everyone colors. Paul was brown, Andrew was white and Brian...what was his color?

I tried different ones, but nothing really worked. Brown fit him physically but not mentally, and white was unpredictable like him, but too sweet and caring.

All of a sudden, my face was buried into a rough yellow shirt.

"I'm sorry!" I squealed, backing up to see what innocent person I'd run into on my way back from visiting Vanessa.

"Meg!"

I was wrapped into a firm hug, and my nose was filled with the faint smell of smoke and tree bark.

"Brian!?" I squealed again, recognizing the soft hands that patted my back during the hug. I returned his hug with a bigger one, relishing in the comfort he always brought.

He drew away to look at me. "Amazing what time can do in a year!"

"I know!" I smiled, fingering the stubble on his square chin, "You've finally started that beard you've wanted for the past ten years!"

He scoffed at me. "I know, it grows so slow! Too bad I'm not you! I'd have a beard in three days!"

I gave him an icy glare, but ended up smiling again, noticing the untamed brown curls on his head. I'd missed those curls.

"What happened to Vanessa?" he asked, looking at me with his pale blue eyes.

I sighed, "A long story."

He gave me another slight hug, "We should find Mom, I want to say hi."

"So they put her in the stocks?" Brian exclaimed.

"I told you they don't have brains here," I remarked dryly.

He sighed the same sigh he always did, "At least she's not in jail."

"Really! Only lunatics go to jail! And I'd hate it if she got that bad of a reputation!" I only half-joked.

He laughed. "I know. I'm stupid."

"No, you do stupid things."

"I know."

It was silent for a moment.

"But I love you anyways," I told him, hugging him again.

"I love you too!" my brother promised, hugging me back. I wanted to hug him forever, so he'd never leave me again. Never break my heart again. "I hope you don't turn out stupid."

"I won't."

"Or ignorant."

"You're not ignorant," I argued. He shook his head.

"No, I mean, I hope you don't turn out like me or Vanessa," he explained.

"Vanessa has been very brave!"

"And ignorant. And selfish! From what you told me, she could've gotten a lot of people in trouble," Brian said.

He was right.

"Let's go for a walk!" I ordered, leaving the inn, Brian in tow.

We talked about everything. Brian told me about his time in jail and I told him about everything that had happened since the last time I saw him.

It was a lot, considering it had been a whole year.

"Meg!" I heard someone call.

Clopin came into view, his skinny legs walking briskly towards me.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his intense voice sending white hot chills up my spine. He wrapped me into a hug.

"I'm hanging in there," I told him. He eyed Brian, black eyes dancing.

"Who's this?"

"Oh! Umm, this is Brian," I introduced, Clopin frowning immediately, " and Brian this is Clopin Trouillefou."

"Nice to meet you," Clopin whistled through his teeth, rocking on his heels.

"Same here!" my brother gave one of his dashing smiles, holding out a hand.

Clopin shook it firmly and smiled back.

"You a friend of Meg's?"

"Yeah."

"Well I have to give it to you then! Anyone who can handle her must be one hell of a person!" Brian looked at me, his face twinkling with challenge.

"Watch it, Brian, if you smile any wider you'll face will split. Not that it could get any uglier," I sneered, but made sure my voice had enough tease in it he knew I was just fighting back. He should have known by then that I take on his challenges no matter what.

"Watch it, Meg, or your face might freeze in that sneer. Not that it could get any uglier, though..." he shot back.

Clopin chuckled as I struggled to think of a witty come back.

"Well, you have big ears."

He laughed, rolling his eyes at me. "I told you, you'll never beat me."

"Cheese bag."

Clopin put a hand between us, "No need to fight, now!"

I smiled at him, who smiled back at me, popping the knee on one of his chicken legs by bending down a little.

"Do that to much and you'll end up with bone pains," my brother pointed out.

"Already have them," Clopin sighed, leaning against a stone wall. He turned to me. "Michel was looking for you."

"Michel?"

He smiled at me. "You don't look too happy!"

"Well..."

"Meg!"

I grunted and turned to see Mary bounce over, dressed in bright pink.

"I need to talk to you!" she said, nearly knocking Brian over. "Sorry!"

"Oh, Mary, that's my brother Brian, " I told her, fighting a laugh.

Brian dusted himself off and leaned his head down to hers, and I saw lust gleam in his eyes. Not to mention that flirty look on his face.

"Where am I? Because I must have died and gone to heaven!" he whispered to her, sarcasm slightly dressing up the line.

"Where am I? Because I must have died and gone to hell!" Mary hissed, but I saw interest in those bright eyes.

"Well then!" Brian laughed it off, "Would one like me to show you around hell?"

"How about I show you around and you shut up with the crappy sarcasm."

Brian shrugged and off they went.

I gaped at Clopin.

"So much for whatever she was going to tell you."

I grumbled gibberish under my breath. "I hate how he does that. I mean, when he was ugly it didn't work, but now that he's grown into his nose all he has to do is wink an eye."

"Its hard being a beautiful man."

I shot a look at Clopin, leaning beside him, my leg slightly touching his. Mine felt so fat around his, not to mention flabby.

I was glad my skirt hid them.

"He's not what I expected."

I stared at the people passing by.

"How?"

"Well, I expected some dirty, ugly man. But he seems so nice and so hard not to like," Clopin whispered.

"That's why he hurts so much," I confided, spotting Michel walking by. He spotted us.

I grumbled again, and Clopin gave me his questioning look.

"Meg! I was looking for you. How are you holding up?" he grabbed my hands affectionately. My insides squirmed a little.

"I'm good, really. No need to worry!" I tugged my hands away.

And as horrible as it sounds, I scooted a little closer to Clopin, though Michel seemed oblivious.

"I should set up my puppet stand," Clopin said, looking opposite of me. My eyes widened, and I fought against screaming for him to stay. He waved, still avoiding eye contact with me, and then trudged away.

That's not necessary, I screamed in my mind, come back Clopin! Clopin...

"Clopin..." I whispered.

"Have you seen Mary today?" Michel asked, ignoring my whisper like the other clues.

"Yeah."

"So you talked to her?" Michel was standing in front of me, close, and I couldn't back up with the wall being behind me. My stomach dropped and curled nervously.

"Not really..." I whispered.

"Oh, well, umm, I..." Michel stared at me intensely with his black eyes and his muscular arms setting his hands on my shoulders softly. "Well, you know what I'm going to say."

I choked, but managed to half-squeak, half-grunt, "No, I don't."

Well, ok, I lied. I knew what he was about to say. I just didn't want to believe it. He shouldn't be doing this, I thought, why didn't he understand I was in love with Clopin?

I was avoiding looking at him like Clopin had me, but he stared so deeply my head was almost forced to his with some super natural power.

He kissed me hard and hot. I tried to move back, but my head bounced on the wall and sent me forward, plunging into the kiss.

Michel brought his lips away and stared at me. I could have killed him then.

Because he stole it. He stole my first kiss. I was saving it, you know. For someone special. Like Clopin. I would've been glad to share it with Clopin, even though he had most likely had his fair share of girls in the bed. As I said, I loved him.

Michel had stolen it.

And I glared at him, my quick temper boiling.

He didn't ignore it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass..." he started backwards and I just glared at him harder. He turned on his heel, his face red and his eyes blurring. He practically ran away.

I tucked my anger away, like I would a hand mirror into my purse, and let sadness fill me.

Thank goodness Brian was there. I needed him. He was my favorite family member.

My favorite sibling.


	7. Chapter 7: His Touch

Chapter Seven: His Touch

My mouth was dry and had the funkiest taste to it when I woke up the next morning.

My mom was so happy Brian was back; I could see the hope in her brown eyes glimmering. She was complete again. It was hard on her. Sometimes she couldn't eat because she didn't know if Brian was hungry, or sleep because she didn't know if Brian was warm.

But the stress in her voice and the burden in her heart disappeared when she saw him, and I'm sure it happened a little with me to. My mom loved him more then anything, but Brian was never really fond of her. He even told her he hated her several times over the coarse of two years.

But he was back!

And the whole family was mending, just like we break when he leaves.

And Brian knows that. And Brian takes advantage of ever little skimmer of hope or love he can bring.

Anyways, I woke up to shuffling around and then this banging. I heard I door creak.

Peering through the darkness I saw Brian's slender figure opening the door and leaving. My heart skipped.

It was early, and I was achy from the events of the day before, but I jerked out of bed and ran after him, catching him at the inn door.

He was holding his bag of belongings and was walking briskly as if eager to leave. I almost died.

"Brian!" I screamed, running towards him. He almost died when he saw me.

"Meg!"

"What are you doing!" my tears spewed.

"I have to go."

"Its only been one day!"

"I know."

"What about me?"

He sighed.

"Don't you love me?"

He sighed. I gaped.

"Of course I love you, but I have to leave."

"What about mom? Do you know how happy she is to see you? We thought you were staying! Maybe not forever but for more then a day!"

"Megan, please don't cry," he strapped his arms around me. I let him, though I shouldn't of.

"Why?"

"Because, it hurts me."

"Then why are you leaving!?"

"So I don't have to see your pain!"

"That a bunch of crap, Brian! You're crap!"

He stared at me. "Guess I was wrong. You've beaten me at insults this time."

"This isn't a game," I argued.

"I'll miss you," he told me, turning to leave again.

"Wait! Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?"

"What's your color?"

He pondered for a minute, but didn't look at me like I was insane, which was what I had expected.

"Yellow."

And then he left.

I whispered for him to come back, and kept hoping he would. But he didn't.

I almost freaked, and I started to pinch the soft skin inside my elbow, but quickly stopped, reminding myself that hurting my body wasn't going to heal my soul.

Though it sure felt good to hurt myself.

So I kept doing it.

Until it bled.

Eager for something to do, now that I was wide I awake, I dashed back into my room, forgetting everyone was sleeping.

And then it occurred to me that I was going to have to tell my mom when she woke up that Brian was gone.

And I'd have to see all that pain plaster on her face again.

I panicked. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't!

This was Brian's fault.

I got ready quickly, brushing my hair and washing the funky taste out of my mouth.

I threw on a pale peach dress that was a little to long for me and slipped on my white boots. Then I left before anyone woke up.

It wasn't the right thing to do. I should've waited and told them right away, but I shouldn't have had to tell them anything in a way.

Brian. I hated him.

And I just wanted him to come back home with all my heart.

The sun was just up outside, and I hurriedly made my way down the streets.

I was going to the cathedral. Yes, I did disagree with most teachings of the Catholic Church, but we believed in the same God and would go to the same heaven. Not to mention I had no where else to go.

I walked up to the big doors, gaping at the two rows of statues that stared at me everywhere I went.

It was beautiful inside, with pillars lining the halls and candles covering the place with a pure glow. I could hear the faint drone of chanting, and I relished in the beauty and cleanness of it all.

God, I thought, my mind hurting with every heart beat, I don't know what to do. This isn't my life, it's yours but...I feel like everything I've done lately was for me. I love him. You know I do, because you put that love in my heart! What do you want me to do? Brian broke my heart...again. I don't want to have to tell them! Its not my fault! Its not! I just...

"I thought you were protestant?"

I swung around, and stared into black eyes.

"Clopin?"

"That I am."

"I am protestant," I said, walking over to him. He was dressed in an orange shirt with yellow breeches that went to his knees, which showed a darker yellow tight. "I just needed a quiet place to clear my mind."

"Well, then its good I came! I can clear your mind of everything!"

"Wearing that, you can't! I'll be seeing stars for weeks!" I smiled at him, comforted by his presence.

"Oh, please, stop with the flattery!" He rolled his eyes, but then stared at me kindly. Concernedly. "Really, though, what's wrong?"

"Brian. He left."

"Why?!"

I shrugged as if I didn't care, but my eyes got hot and my nose tingled.

He put a hand on my shoulder, and I felt white hot surges fly down my spine, and I shivered slightly, a silent tear flowing down my cheek.

He leant down to my level, and stared at me eye to eye. "Don't cry, Meg, please."

My face tightened, but I managed to squeak, "Why?"

"Because I...I shouldn't think of you the way I do," he admitted, and my hands shook with excitement as my stomach lurched with uneasiness.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Instead I just smiled and nodded, like some fool.

And he laughed.

And then he kissed me, caressing my head with his hand. I opened my mouth a little and he deepened the kiss, sending feeling unnamable through me.

I put one of my hands on his chest, and felt the imprint of a rosary.

I drew back, speechless.

He smiled at me, twirling a finger through my hair. "You didn't like it?"

"No, I...just. I'm so young! And..." and my bottom lip fits yours so perfectly I can swear it was fate, I thought, "wait. In a couple years we can, and just wait."

He leaned back and his heel, as if thinking about it.

"You drive a hard bargain."

I smiled like a fool again and nodded.

He grabbed my hand, and lightning shot through me. "Come help me set up."

I nodded giddily again, a slave to the soft touch of his fingers.


	8. Chapter 8: His Tears

Chapter Eight: His Tears

"No, I can't stand chicken!" I wrinkled my nose just thinking about it.

"How!?" Clopin asked, leaning against his puppet stand.

"Its just so dry and boring- I don't like turkey either," I told him, fingering some of the fabric that hung of his colorful stand.

He stood there, smiling at me before he said, "What story should I tell the kids today?"

"Well, you actually never finished telling me about the bell ringer."

"I can't tell them that one, I don't have a puppet for Frollo yet," he sighed. "It's hard to capture that much ugliness in one doll!"

I pointed to the puppet that looked like him, unable to resist, "Well then I can't imagine how long it took you to make that one!"

He frowned at me. "Keep it up and you're liable to make me cry."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to do that!" I smiled, tilting my head. "I could help you make it."

"What?"

"The Frollo puppet."

His face brightened. "Good! I already finished some of it."

I followed him into the tiny stand, and he lifted up a little puppet dressed in black with a humongous hat on his head.

But it didn't have a face, or hair. Clopin grabbed a thing of white paint, coloring some hair that stuck out from under the hat. I grabbed some black paint and a paintbrush, and did the eyes. Clopin finished the mouth with the white.

I looked at it, biting the inside of my mouth.

"It doesn't look right...," Clopin mused, scratching his goatee.

I dipped the brush in more black and picked the puppet up, "He looks to happy," I concluded, adding spiky teeth across the mouth of Frollo.

I handed back to him, proud of my work.

He laughed, patting me on the head. "Its perfect! Now we just have to wait for the kids!"

"How do you earn money if you only every do this?" I asked him, hoping to uncover the secrets around him.

He looked at me and smiled. "You ask too many questions."

I pouted one because there was so much I didn't know and no one would tell me and two because Clopin had reminded me of Michel.

Michel made me want to leave Paris that instant, but Clopin made me want to stay forever.

"What's wrong?"

I got a cold chill. "I need to tell you something."

"I'm listening."

I swallowed and looked at the floor. "Yesterday...well, " I laughed nervously, my face burning, "Michel kissed me."

I'm not sure what I expected, but I had no idea what to say when Clopin busted out laughing, holding his belly as if it might burst.

"Its not funny!"

He stopped long enough to breath and told me, "Oh, well, it seems I have competition!"

"No! I don't like him! At all!"

"Why not?"

"I just don't!"

"That's not a very good reason."

I stared him, confused, "Do you want me to like him?"

He was down to just chuckling softly, "Well he is more your age."

I eyes widened. "But..."

"But I'm so glad you chose me."

I bit my lip, still confused. Was he trying to make me feel guilty or something? Did he not like me after all?

"Clopin, I don't get it."

More laughing came, and I was about to let my temper stir up but I felt his lips against my forehead, and his gloved hands on either side of my face.

"If I wait, will you marry me?" he asked, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs.

I smiled, exhaling while exhilaration sped up my breathing. "Of course!"

I knocked on my parent's room in the inn, still in a happy little daze from spending time with Clopin.

My mom opened the door, and frowned. "Where have you been? Where's Brian?"

"He left. I caught him leaving this morning, and I needed to cool off so I went for a walk," I answered looking away from her face.

"He left?!"

I nodded.

"Again!"

I nodded.

She shut the door, and I trembled. I turned and saw Vanessa standing beside me.

"He left!"

I gave her a hug, and her muscles loosened, "How are you?"

"He left! I didn't even get to see him!" she complained.

I was still smiling a little. "It's alright. His loss."

"Why are you so happy?"

I looked at her, deciding whether or not I should tell her. "I'm just happy for some reason."

She frowned. "I need a nap."

"Go, sleep!" I urged her. I left the inn, daydreaming about Clopin and how he told the story of the bell ringer to those kids. They're eyes were so wide, preparing for the climax of the story- exactly as Clopin had described it before.

I saw Mary, sitting on a crate and I hopped over to her.

"Hey, Mary, how are you?"

She looked at me, distressed. "Did you kiss Michel?"

My heart sank. "Yeah, umm, but I came to tell you..."

"Brian left. Yeah, I know. I saw him leaving," she said dryly. "Did you kiss Clopin?"

I eyes widened, "How did you?"

She shook her head. "You know, Michel really thought you liked him. I did too. Maybe you should think before you go kissing every guy you meet."

"I just had my first kiss yesterday!"

"Michel saw you. With Clopin in his stand. When he told me, I wasn't sure but..." she looked at me disgusted, "Do you know what you did to him?"

"I didn't mean to make him think I liked him!"

"Because a few minutes ago he told me that everything he thought was real turned out to be crap. That not only did you not like him, you were with the person who inspired him to stand up for his rights. To not let Frollo and his zombies stop him from living. And now he doesn't believe that anymore."

"This has nothing to do with his rights!" I said sharply. Mary glared at me with her pretty eyes.

"You better find him before he does something crazy," she ordered, standing up. "Michel is more then a toy you flirt with."

I struggled to breath, a sob catching in my throat. I watched as she stomped away.

I didn't know where to start. I ran through the streets, eyeing the crowd for him, panic in my heart.

I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn't know Clopin meant so much to him, and I...I only thought myself. That I wanted Clopin and that I didn't want to Michel to like me.

My side started to throb, but I kept running and running. Everyone was going so fast and it seemed so hopeless. I had to find him. I didn't know what he was planning on doing but Mary made it sound so horrible.

She made me sound so horrible.

I wished Clopin was there.

No, I told myself, no! You've messed up enough for today.

I never meant to be cruel. I just wanted to live my life! And be good...

I saw him.

"Michel!"

His head jerked around, red and wet. I grabbed his arm before he could walk away, and even though he could have easily overpowered me he turned to face me.

"What?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry things never change," he whispered, "disappointment after disappointment. Heartbreak after heartbreak."

I lightly touched his face smiling. "I know how you feel, but it'll-"

"Meg, listen, you can't 'save my soul' or what ever you think you're about to do, no matter what same old things you say. Nothing is going to change," he never raised his voice; he didn't have to. The anger and pain radiated in his eyes. It was almost unbearable to look at him.

"What do I need to change?" I asked, trying to match the calm composure of his voice while putting all my emotions on my face.

He shook his head.

I looked him up and down and bit my lip. He started to walk away, and I reached to grab him but he jerked away.

I started after him, screaming for him to come back, but he walked to fast for me to catch even when I tried to lengthen my stride.

I ran to get to him, but when I tried to run in front of him, he gave me this look. It was set and determined, with enough anger to shove me out of the way but too much class to strike a woman.

And those eyes moved me all by themselves, and I stood there as he walked away for a minute, given up.

Until I heard the clang of metal, and I ran after him, scared out of my wits.

I saw a little crowd, the more curious townspeople gathering and the distant ones staring while they went the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," I could hear Michel whispering as I fought through the crowd. Two soldiers were standing in front of him, mischievous looks plastered on the devil's faces.

"Where are you going, scoundrel?" one of them asked, grabbing his wrist.

Michel flung his arm away, "Please, I need to get by."

I smiled, knowing Michel would stay calm and polite.

He had to.

The soldiers, who still stood directly in front of him grumbled. "Then you shouldn't have caused a commotion, huh?"

"I didn't, sir, you approached me."

One of them grabbed a knife, holding it towards him, "What's in your bag?"

Michel grabbed the bag on his belt as if to protect it. "My business."

The other guard reached towards the bag, and when Michel stepped back so he couldn't take it, he punched him right across the face.

Michel reacted like lightning, swing his fist to his chin, knocking the guy to the ground.

The one with the dagger lunged, but Michel caught his wrist, twisting until the soldier squealed.

I gasped at the action, too scared to to try to tell Michel to stop and too scared to look away.

The one without the dagger struggled to his feet again, punching Michel in his stomach. Michel struck him right in the eye, and before he could strike back, he kicked him in the shin, causing him to fall over again. I saw the one with the dagger raise his arm, but only had enough time to scream before the dagger went plunging through Michel's back.

He fell over.

I ran. And ran.

I covered my face and cried and ran and screamed, clawing my nails into my face.

Instinctively I went for Clopin's stand, and Clopin gasped at my composure.

"What happened? Meg?!"

I kept my distance from him, grabbing the sleeves of my dress. "Michel...he's..."

"Meg?"

"He's stabbed...he's stabbed in the back...where the heart is...I hope...he might be a-alive..." I stammered.

"Michel!?"

I nodded, sobbing like a baby, snot running down my upper lip and into my mouth, but I didn't care.

Clopin's eyes glazed over with anger, and he started towards me, but I backed off. "Meg?"

He reached a hand to me but I shook my head, "No."

He looked away, balling his hand into a fist and shaking his head. "Frollo...he better be alive..."

I was sitting inside the puppet stand, crying still. It came in stages, starting silent, slow and cold. The warmer the tears got, the faster they fell until my face scrunched up and I blubbered. Then my head would ache so bad, that I'd have to stop to breathe. Then it would start over.

Everything was a question. What if he was dead? What if I never saw him again? What if he was the one for me, and I let him slip? What if all the excuses, the crappy reasons, I made for not liking him were my own way of hiding the truth.

And now the truth was that I missed him, already. I didn't even know if he was dead, but I knew I shouldn't have let him go.

He was what I needed.

But I chose what I wanted.

I saw Mary go up to Clopin, who was standing outside the puppet stand, out of ear reach for me. She was bawling hysterically, and she told him something, then collapsed onto the ground, covering her face.

My heart sank. She was just mad at me. Michel was alive.

This was all some kind of sick joke to teach me my lesson.

But Clopin turned around so I could see his face, and though the anger still burned in his face, tears fell. Over his high cheeks bones and off his slender face, smooth against the tan skin.

He looked at me, grief spilling form him in every form. And that little hope I had, the hope I was clinging on to with my life, disappeared.

Michel was dead.

And I felt in everyway responsible. How did I let him go?

I stared at Clopin, so confused.

I wouldn't let him go.

I wouldn't let him go...

I slipped out of the tent, and crawled into his arms, and he bent down onto his knees, laying his head atop of my head.

I felt warm tears seep through my hair onto my scalp and held him tighter.


	9. Chapter 9: His Age

Chapter Nine: His Age

"Dad, come on, don't!" I followed my dad outside the inn, tears still wet on my face.

"I will not just sit by and let this happen! I'm going straight to the captain," he said, marching to the Court of Justice.

I'd told him everything, and his patience was gone. He was determined to voice his opinion to Frollo, or anyone else, whether they wanted to hear it or not. The whole situation with Michel outraged him.

Who can blame him? It was unfair and inhumane. I felt the same way, but...

"Dad, what if they kick us out!"

"Let them! We're leaving as soon as possible anyways!"

My throat went dry. "What if I don't want to leave!"

He glanced at me over his shoulder. "How could you stay?"

Then he walked off, and I debated following him, but I didn't. I bit the inside of my cheek until it started bleeding, filling my mouth with the taste.

What was I supposed to do? I tried to run all my options over in my mind. I couldn't let Clopin go, not after what happened with Michel.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned my head around, my stomach sick.

"Meg!" Gilbert grabbed my shoulders, worried. "Are you alright?"

I didn't say anything, just shrugged a little.

You could tell Gilbert had been crying, his eyes were swollen. "It's going to work out."

I looked at him and swallowed. "We're probably going to leave soon."

His eyebrows shot up. "Where's Nessa?"

"She should be at the inn."

"Thanks," he whispered, walking by me. He turned back and said, "Clopin was looking for you. He's at the cathedral."

I waved goodbye, and just stood there as Gilbert went out of sight. I needed to talk to Clopin, but I didn't know what to say. I knew we'd have to leave someday, but I wasn't prepared right then. My faith was slipping and my heart was hardly repaired.

I drifted through the streets and crowds until I got to the cathedral. Clopin was sitting on the steps, playing with a hem on his tunic.

"Hey," I said, sitting beside him calmly. He stared at me for a minute, and then smiled, the wrinkles around his mouth widening like my dad's did. He was so much older.

It was pretty much wrong for me to feel the way I did about him. It was pretty much wrong for him to like me.

The whole concept made me a little uncomfortable at that moment.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Father says we're leaving as soon as possible."

Clopin still smiled, as if not surprised. "And what are you going to do?"

"Well..." I paused. "Maybe you could come with us! Its dangerous here and-"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have responsibilities, Meg, you know that."

I scoffed at him. "Oh do I? Because at this point I don't even know where you live! Or how you make a living! For all I know you could be a cutpurse!"

He stood up and stared down at me. "Cutpurse? No. Cutthroat, maybe, but I'm no thief."

I stood up too, even more agitated. "Cutthroat!?"

He rolled his eyes a little, sighing. "Not everything can be solved easily. When you grow up-"

"Grow up?" I stepped back from him nodding my head.

"You're only sixteen," he replied.

"Does it make a difference? What makes you think when I'm twenty I won't have the same values?" I snapped.

"I don't know, Meg! Let's not argue right now!" he said firmly. "You want to know who I am?"

"I would like that," I breathed, aggravated still.

"Clopin Trouillefou, King of Tunis, successor to the Grand Coere, and the king of rogues," he told me, bowing a little.

I stepped back even further. "What?"

He sighed again. "I am King of the Gypsies." He stepped closer to me, leaning into my ear and whispering. "We live together in the Court of Miracles, where Frollo can't persecute us. And I, my dear, am in charge. If one of Frollo's spies were to ever find the Court of Miracles, it would be my job to dispose of them in order to protect all of my people. That's why I can't leave; that's why I could be called a cutthroat."

He leaned back, smiling proudly at me.

My eyes widened, which only made Clopin smile wider.

I looked down. "Clopin, why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I enjoy it. And you will too."

I looked straight at him, shaking my head. "I can't stay with you."

"Yes you can! We have plenty of food, plenty of room! I've already mentioned it to a select few and they were fine with the idea. Even if they weren't, I'm the king!" he told me, grabbing my shoulders. "I'd protect you from Frollo, and you'd fit right in."

"No, Clopin, I really can't. As much as I want to," I bit the sore on the inside of my mouth from earlier. "If I stayed here I'd be doing the exact same thing Brian did to us."

Clopin smiled still. "No you wouldn't! Brian left for himself; you'd be staying for love."

I started to tear up a little. "Clopin, you obviously can't leave and I can't stay. You agreed to wait, so when I'm old enough I'll come back."

"Meg, I know what I said, but I don't want to wait."

"Just have patience."

"I don't have any patience!"

"Well you should have patience!"

"I should have you!"

I started to cry, and he wrapped his skinny arms around me, and kissed my head. "Don't cry."


	10. Chapter 10: Him

Chapter Ten: Him

"I have something important to tell you, well, we have something important to tell you," Vanessa started, holding Gilbert's hand tightly as they stood in front of me and my parents. I knew automatically what was going on. "We're getting married!"

My father almost shed a tear, leaning up against our caravan in shock. My mom ran over to hug Gilbert. He looked straight at my father anxiously.

"Sir, I ask that I may join the family by traveling with you. I'll earn my pay by playing music where we go," he asked.

"Please!" Vanessa begged, excitedly. She knew Father could say no.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, walking over and grasping him into a big hug.

"Welcome to the family," I whispered, happy for Vanessa but at the same time extremely, border line unbearably, jealous of her. She was old enough to get married; Gilbert was around her age. Gilbert could leave.

I wasn't old enough; Clopin was not around my age, and he certainly couldn't leave. Why did everything work out for her and not me?

I sighed, half-way listening as Gilbert talked to my parents nervously. It was all going to be ok. I'd come back and I'd be with him, and I just had to trust that God would protect him.

I could feel tears coming again from the tingly arousing in my nose. I looked around the town, my eyesight getting blurrier rapidly. I didn't want to leave.

But that day I would.

I felt a hand on my shoulder; I knew it was my mom.

"Are you alright, sweetie?"

"Yeah, mom, I'm ok..."

"Are you sure? I'm sorry if I haven't paid much attention to you: so much has been going on and..."

"Its ok, mom."

"Well, I just feel like I'm missing out on you."

I turned around and looked at her, smiling through some tears. "Well that's not all your fault." I saw bright colors from the corner of my eye, and I pivoted around to see Mary standing a few yards away, waving.

I walked over to her, unsteadiness in my stomach growing.

"Hey."

"Hey..." I answered, looking into her beautiful eyes.

"So Gilbert's running off, eh?" she smirked a little.

"Look, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt him-" I started.

She interrupted, "Its ok. It's the past. I've learned to live for each day- each hour."

I started to tear up again, but I stopped it, being careful not to blink.

"Are you leaving, too?"

I looked up at her and shook my head no. There was a long pause of awkward silence, and I struggled through my thoughts for something to say. "I'm going to miss it here..."

"You're going to miss Clopin."

I was little surprised, a little annoyed, by the comment, but I just blushed and shrugged it off. "Have you seen him?"

"Last time I talked to him he said he would come see you off. When are you leaving?"

"I guess when Gilbert packs up his things..."

"That won't take long..."

I sighed. "My life seems so jumbled right now...I can't imagine how it is for you."

"I'll pull through, don't worry," she assured me, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "And I'll keep a watchful eye on Clopin. He's a flirt."

I blushed even redder now, my whole neck and chest becoming hot. "Well I guess I can't complain..."

Mary smiled. "Forget what I said, Meg." It was forceful, but soft. She was obviously apologizing in her own, unique round-about way. "But I should probably get going..."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll have to!"

She walked off, a spring in her step and her hair and clothes swinging thorough the air with streams of color. I turned to look at my family, but all I could see was Clopin. It was weird that I never heard or sensed him coming, but the minute I saw him I knew it was him from the funny colored outfits he wore. He marched right up to me, taking off his purple hat and bowing. "Good day!"

"Good day."

He straightened himself and looked down at me. "Don't act so sad, chin up! Whoever said a sad girl was attractive didn't have his mind right!"

I looked at him, trying to keep the moment uplifting and sarcastic. "I'm going to miss you saying things that just FILL my heart with happiness."

"Don't fool yourself; you're going to miss everything about me!"

I smirked at him. "Everything but your wardrobe. I'm surprised I'm not blind already!"

He smirked right back, his eyes twinkling- no, his whole self twinkling- with excitement, "I'm going to miss you saying things that FILL my heart with happiness."

I rolled my eyes, remarking, "Don't fool yourself, sir! You'll miss everything about me!"

He laughed at me, waving his hands in defeat. "Really, I wish you'd stay."

"You'll be alright," I told him. He smiled again.

"Oh I know I'll be alright, I'm not sure how you'll take being away from me though..."

"Well as long as you don't find yourself another lady, I should be ok."

"Where'd you get that idea?"

I giggled. "Let's just say, as rumor has it, you're a flirt."

"Hey, what you don't know won't kill you..."

I shot him a look. "Careful, I have spies."

"I do, too."

I raised an eyebrow, but quickly realized he was talking about Gilbert.

We spent a little longer talking, about how I would send letters and in each I'd tell him where to write me back to. Time passed quickly, and before I could even be in the least bit satisfied about leaving Notre Dame, and Clopin, my father had everything packed, and I was standing there for goodbye.

And for some reason I felt like it should be more dramatic, like go in slow motion, or that I should be blubbering the whole time. But there was this level of content ness Clopin was giving me, and as much as it hurt I told him goodbye.

He returned it with a parting gift: an I love you that I could hold on to until I saw him again. I stared at him through the caravan as we wiggled off, watching him get smaller and smaller, his beautiful eyes merging in with his face and eventually his legs and arms just a dot against the stone walls of Notre Dame.

It wasn't until I couldn't see him anymore that the trauma hit. My family just patted me on the shoulder, thinking all the stress of Paris and my brother had me down. But I knew that I was leaving the man I loved, cherished everything about. His large nose, his smirking mouth, his heartwarming laughter, his slender hands, his glittering eyes, his chicken legs, his breathtaking touch, his warm tears, and most of all, his age.

**The End**

(wow, I can't believe its over already! Please forgive me for long waits between posts, and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I might do a sequel…I'm not entirely positive…)


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